


My Leather, Your Ass, Our Room

by maaaaa



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa
Summary: A Birthday ficlet written for JaneDavitt in May, 2008 & inspired by a line in her story Ten Green Bottles, which can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78852
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Kudos: 15





	My Leather, Your Ass, Our Room

**Author's Note:**

> A Birthday ficlet written for JaneDavitt in May, 2008 & inspired by a line in her story Ten Green Bottles, which can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78852

Blair stood on his side of the bed, in his purple satin boxers, the boxers Jim had bought for him, not a pair of the bargain six-pack cotton boxers Blair bought for himself. They were a great color, Jim’d said, and he loved the smooth texture; thought it would feel extraordinary as he stroked Blair’s cheeks through them and crunched the fabric between his fingers while slowly sliding them off Blair’s ass.

And they had…did…would tonight, he planned. They were Blair’s get-lucky boxers, because Jim always melted at the sight of them and indulged in slow and easy foreplay just to be able to prolong the sensations.

But then Blair’s plans skidded to an abrupt halt.

Jim was sitting on the end of the bed. He looked at Blair in an odd, contemplative way. He held a paddle in his hand and was twiddling it as if testing its weight and balance.

Blair wondered where it’d come from because Jim sure as hell hadn’t had it in his hand a few minutes earlier.

“Um, Jim?” he squeaked in an involuntary whisper. Then he cleared his throat and tried again. “Whatcha got there Jim?” he asked, sounding only marginally more steady.

Jim looked down at the paddle, almost as if he hadn’t realized it was there. He flexed the tip of it and Blair could smell the leathery tang from where he stood as the grain cracked and stretched. Jim closed his eyes for a moment and that odd look settled on his face again.

“You’ve really never been paddled?” he asked casually as he opened his eyes and lightly tapped the paddle against the palm of his hand.

The question was out of the blue, sailing in from way out of left field.

Blair’s brows furrowed, his heartbeat sped up and apprehension over what Jim was getting at dropped like a rock straight to the pit of his stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about that conversation we had a while back,” Jim went on as if picking up the thread of a conversation they’d been having. “You know? The one that led to this?” He smiled warmly and waggled his free hand between the two of them.

Oh hell yes, Blair remembered that conversation and the ‘this’ it’d led to. But his recollections of that talk sure as shootin’ hadn’t been spent contemplating that particular comment -

**‘Ha! The first time I take my belt to your ass for leaving your room a mess, you can say that, until then, just –‘**

Blair eyed the stairs, judging his chances of making a mad dash for them past Jim.

He’d seen for himself first hand how quickly Jim could spring into action.

He didn’t stand a chance.

“Look, Jim, if this is because I’ve turned my old room into my own personal dumping ground---,” Blair’s voice cracked and sounded squeaky again, so he took a more assertive stance and a more aggressive tone. “I still don’t need a daddy figure to take a belt to my ass and if that’s your bent with where you want this relationship to go, well, well, I’m, I’m, I’m,” Blair stuttered and then shook his head vehemently and threw his hands into the air with a look of total befuddlement on his face.

The skin around Jim’s eyes crinkled and his smile turned soft. His voice was lilty-low and sultry when he answered, “It's a leather paddle, not a belt. And believe me, it has nothing to do with your room being messy.”

Blair blinked rapidly, confusion wrinkling his face almost comically as he tried to make sense of that comment. He rubbed his hands up and down his flanks nervously, then snatched them away quickly as the feel of the cool satin reminded him it was Jim’s hands that should be playing with his shorts right about now.

“Come here,” Jim said. He fluttered his fingers invitingly and then patted the empty space on the bed next to him. At Blair’s wary look, he laughed and added, “I’m not going to paddle you. Promise.”

The ‘promise’ was as true in Jim’s eyes as it was in his voice so Blair complied. He sat next to Jim and bumped up against him, jostling shoulders amicably.

“Do you *want* to paddle me? Would that be a turn on for you? Because if that’s what you mean, not the daddy thing, and whoa, I’m sorry if I was outta line with that, I mean, then---.”

Blair shrugged and let whatever else he was going to say trail off.

Jim leaned hard into Blair, then wrapped both arms around him, tugged him close, and kissed his temple.

“The turn on,” Jim whispered into Blair’s ear. “Would be if you paddled me.”

He picked up the paddle from his lap and dropped it onto Blair’s lap, and then lazily ran his fingertip around its edge, alternately stroking it and Blair’s thigh.

Blair looked at him with a mixture of emotions and questions that worked their way across his face slowly, starting with his mouth guppy-flapping and moving all the way to his eyebrows shooting up into his disheveled curls.

Jim hugged him tighter and shushed him with a soft, “Shhhh,” and another gentle kiss, this time on the lips before continuing, still in a whisper.

“Carolyn never would; partly because she knew the belt story too. Couldn’t separate the two concepts.”

Blair was quiet for a few moments, which for Blair was a few moments too long. Jim was about ready to retrieve the paddle and withdraw his request with as much aplomb as possible and attempt to salvage what was left of the evening.

“Too much, too soon?” he asked, masking the trace of disappointment he felt.

But Blair’s hand found the leather before Jim’s did, and he laid claim to it. He stood up, bringing Jim with him. He did the kissing this time, and there wasn’t much gentle about it.

“Turn around, kneel down, and bend over the bed,” Blair ordered as he made a twirly motion with his finger and swatted Jim’s ass playfully.

Jim couldn’t help but smile. “Would you put me over your knee?” he asked hopefully.

Blair smiled too, but his smile was wicked as he held up the paddle and pointed it a Jim warningly. “Just one sec. Stay put.”

He crossed the room to the dresser, slipped his boxers off, folded them neatly and placed them in the top drawer. Then he pulled out a pair of his less-ratty cotton boxers, put them on, and returned to Jim.

“Do *not* want to be sliding off the bed,” he offered in way of explanation for the change of attire.

Maneuvering Jim across his knees was a bit awkward, but with the spankee being so willing, the mission was accomplished. Blair slipped Jim’s shorts down over his ass, and Jim was more than co-operative with that too, levering himself up to his knees momentarily so Blair could push them down to mid-thigh.

“Do we need a safe word or anything?” Blair asked as he tapped the paddle against Jim’s ass.

Jim curled his torso so he could look up at Blair. “I just want a spanking, Chief, you’re not going to go all over-achiever on me with this are you?” he quipped.

Blair shoved Jim’s head back down toward the mattress. “I love you Ellison,” he replied.

And when the first three whacks landed in rapid succession, leaving a warm tingle across his ass and a satisfying jolt to his cock, Jim realized happily that even though Blair had never been paddled he sure knew how to separate concepts.


End file.
